Behind Blue Eyes
by WarriorOfTheWeek
Summary: Bucky Barnes is on the run. Tormented by resurfacing memories and his struggle to discover who he really is, he is forced to seek help from the people he has hurt the most. They may be more willing, however, than he was expecting.
1. Chapter 1

"Please," the man begged, his voice shaking. Blood dripped out of his mouth and ran down his chin from where several teeth had been knocked out. The smell of gasoline burned the Soldiers' throat as he took his time loading the gun. He stood on the crumpled hood of the black car and peered in through the shattered windshield. The driver was staring with unseeing eyes into oblivion, a single bullet wound prominent in the middle of his forehead. The target was in the passenger seat, the deployed airbag now resting in his lap. The girl in the back struggled, but she was pinned to the seat by the seatbelt. The Solider realized she was young, perhaps sixteen or so. He slowly rose the gun, pointing it in her direction.

"No!" The target yelled, struggling. The Soldier pointed the weapon at the man. "Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt my daughter." the target begged. "Please." he added again.

"The girl is of no interest to me. My instructions were clear." the Solider said emotionlessly. It didn't occur to the Solider he had replied in Russian, and that the man in the passenger seat had no idea what he had said. Yet, the targets eyes widened as he realized what was happening. The Solider tightened his grip on the gun.

"_This man is trying to tear down everything that, Hydra, you have worked so hard for." His handler told him as he shoved the targets picture in his face. "Torture him. Then, kill him. The message must be clear to the rest of his associates!" The handler paused and took a moment to walk over and gently place a clammy hand on what remained of his left shoulder. "You are doing great things for this world." he ran his fingers down the cool metal of the arm and traced the red star with his finger tips. "Hail Hydra." he said at last._

"_Hail Hydra." The Solider replied icily. _

As his fingers tightened around the trigger the man yelled out again. "Please! Not infront of my daughter, please!"

It was in that moment the Solider found the weakness. Everyone had a weakness when it came to torture he had learned. With some it was mental. With others it was physical. But it seemed like everyone he came across had some sort of weakness tied in with their loved ones. The Solider then decided this mans torture.

"This will be the day your daughter will forever remember!" he hissed in English. He waited just long enough to watch the horror fill the mans face.

Panicked the target said loudly, to whom the Weapon assumed was the girl in the backseat, "Sarah close your-"

The shot rang out through the air and the girl screamed as her fathers blood rained into the backseat. This disturbed the Solider for an unknown reason. He hesitated and the girl continued to scream, covered in blood that didn't belong to her. Her screams were awful, filled with pain at losing someone she loved. And the horror of watching it happen. A faded image of a blonde man on a train flashed through his mind. The blonde man let out a scream in the same way the young girl did. Startled, the Solider stumbled off the hood of the car and ran into the woods, wiping blood off of his face. It began to run out of his hair. Then it seeped from his pores. He screamed, his mouth filling with the blood that ran from wounds he didn't have and he staggered into a clearing, collapsing into a pool of water. He looked into the reflection and the man staring back at him looked identical to him. However he had short hair and was wearing a green sort of shirt with visible dog tags. The Soldiers eyes widened and the reflection didn't follow his movements.

"You." The reflection snarled. "You killed those people. It was you!"

"No!" The Soldier gasped, blood running down his face and dripping into the puddle. He tried to stand, but the reflection reached out and grabbed his clothes.

"Your fault! Murderer! Terrorist! Sinner!" The man snarled again, his mouth filling with black blood.

Gasping, Bucky awoke to the sound of a car horn. His body was drenched in sweat despite the chilly air that surrounded him. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. He was safe, in a crappy motel room. Outside he could hear people yelling and car horns honking and he rolled onto his side, listening to the soft whirring of the arm as he did so. No he pushed himself into a sitting position and turned on the lamp next to the bed. He grabbed the notebook and the pencil, and quickly began writing down the dream. He assumed the first part of the dream really happened, but figured the second was brought on because of his own guilty conscious. After he wrote down the parts he figured were important, he flipped the light off lay back down on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He had been on the run for about a month now. He knew he didn't have enough money on him to stay here another night, which meant he would be sleeping on the streets like he had the first week. It had only changed because a man had left his wallet unattended, with a generous sum of money in it. Something had told Bucky taking the money was wrong, but he was so desperate he took it anyway.

He was just starting to dose off again when there was a loud knock at his door. Eyes snapping open, he listened carefully, not moving, hardly daring to breath. The knock came again, this time with more force. Grabbing the gun from beneath his pillow, he slowly walked over to the door and looked through the hole. A woman was standing there, her back to the door, in a motel uniform. He looked at the time. 5:40. Did they come this early to clean motel rooms now? He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and unlocked the door. The woman turned and instantly his heart seemed to stop.

"Well, hello there stranger." She said, a smile on her lips as her red hair peeked out of the top of her hat. He stood motionless. "Are you going to invite me in?" she asked after a moment. When it seemed like he needed extra coxing, she held up a bag. "I brought you food, you know, in case you're hungry."

"I shot you." Bucky breathed as he looked into her eyes.

She shrugged and pushed passed him, into the small room. She set the food down on the bed and took her motel shirt off, reveling a red shirt beneath. "Yeah, well, do it again and I wont bring you anymore snacks." after a couple seconds she said softer, "We have a lot to talk about, Mr. Barnes."

"Are you alone?" he asked sharply. She looked at him then her eyes darted behind him for a moment. He whipped around, and saw the blonde man standing in the doorway. And in that moment his mind shouted one name.

_Steve._


	2. Chapter 2

The man, Steve, was standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on a crutch. Beneath his shirt there was a very visible crease that Bucky assumed was a bandage, and Steve's face looked as if it were almost healed. _I did that, _Bucky thought, feeling his throat beginning to close. In an instant Bucky could tell the man was in a sufficient amount of pain, but his smile looked warm and genuine. The way someone would smile when looking at someone they loved. Overwhelmed with memories all screaming for his attention and the sickly sweet smell of the woman's perfume the room began to spin. His vision swam and the familiar taste of bile rose in his throat. His dislocated shoulder began to throb. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle this man who continued to run back to him like a loyal dog. No matter how many times you beat it and shame it a dog will always return. Bucky wasn't sure how he knew this but he did. He couldn't handle this woman who was so forgiving after he had shot her and beaten her, leaving her for dead.

"Buck, are you alright?" Steve asked, concern in his voice. Bucky hadn't realized he had been swaying back and forth with the room that threatened to flip at any moment. His left arm came up with a soft whirring and cradled his right, which felt like it was trying to tear off his body.

"I'm fine." he rasped. His stomach heaved and he gagged loudly. Even if he wanted to throw up, he couldn't. he didn't know how. _Wow. I don't like that feeling._ He thought to himself as he rubbed his abdomen.

The woman rose off the bed and walked over to him then, holding the empty plastic back out to him. "Do you need this?" she asked, holding it under his chin. Bucky shook his head. He didn't need their help.

"Bucky when was the last time you ate?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked at him with a blank stare. Ate? What was Ate?

The woman exchanged a worried glance with the man in the doorway.

"Its okay, Natasha has food for you." Steve said softly, hobbling awkwardly into the room using the crutch. Natasha disappeared into the hotel bathroom and returned a moment later with a cup full of tap water. She pushed it into Bucky's left hand, as if she knew the right was hurt.

"May I touch you? " She asked. This was surprising to the solider. He was so used to people touching him with out asking, poking and prodding him, smacking him and punching him. He nodded and in the next moment her slim fingers brushed the hair way from his face, revealing the wounds.

"I'll be honest with you," Natasha said as she examined his face, "you didn't make it easy for us to find you."

He remained silent. She pulled some cotton balls out of her bag and some liquid in a brown bottle. She poured some on the cotton ball and turned to him again. "This is going to sting a little, alright? Tell me if you want me to stop." Natasha pressed the cotton ball onto the cuts and scraps and it did indeed sting just as she had promised, but after the burning subsided they felt better. She worked in silence for at least two minutes, treating the injuries, with Steve watching anxiously. Bucky sipped on his water while she worked and eventually the burning in his throat subsided. She stood back and admired her work before placing the used cotton balls in the trash and the brown bottle with the stinging liquid back into her bag.

"Why are you here?" Bucky broke the silence. He had spoken without being addressed, it occurred to him, and he waited for the blow. However none came, to his confusion and relief.

"We are here to help you." Natasha replied.

"I don't need your help." Bucky spat with sudden venom.

Steve and Natasha seemed unfazed.

"You do need our help, Bucky." Steve said, his voice firm.

"It would be in your best interest to hear us out." Natasha said softly. The tip of a folder was peaking out of her backpack, intentionally so he thought, and Bucky thought he could see _B. Barnes _stamped in the right-hand corner.

"I will not be your weapon." he growled.

"Well then it's a good thing no one is asking you to be one." Steve replied.

"We've seen you down at the Smithsonian, looking at the displays. Mainly the one with the picture and biography of James Barnes. You're not going to learn much from that." She slowly pulled the folder out of her backpack and held it close to her. His life. She was holding his life, so carelessly. He felt a hunger for what was in the folder. Perhaps it would answer some of the many questions he had.

"Natasha and I managed to swipe that just as S.H.I.E.L.D. started to crumble. It wont be long before they realize its missing." Steve said, shifting uncomfortably, his face twisting with pain.

"Its not just files from your time in the army." Natasha added.

Steve nodded and continued. "Natasha and I went and dug around. Like, really dug. We have things about your life. Your family, your friends, where we lived as kids." Steve hesitated before adding, "I dug up some old pictures, Buck. Of us. Of our families. You really need to look-"

Bucky shook his head and stood shakily. He felt to overwhelmed by all this. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"I think you two should leave." He said shakily.

"But, Bucky-"

"LEAVE!" Bucky yelled, throwing the glass cup at the wall. He realized a moment too late he had used his left arm, and the glass when straight through the wall, shattering at the same time. He heard someone on the other side cry out in alarm, and he looked at them, panic in his eyes. "Leave!" he yelled again. "Leave-" _so I don't hurt you!_ his voice broke and he couldn't find the strength to get the words out. He took a breath and yelled, "Take your folder with you! I don't need your help!" Very quietly, Natasha picked up the folder and slid it back into her backpack. As she slung the bag over her shoulder, her eyes seemed to fill with ice, no longer showing the warm open light they had at first. Steve looked on silently, such pain in his eyes it forced Bucky to look away in shame. Captain America hobbled out the door awkwardly, not saying a word more and the Black Widow followed him. She grabbed the door handle and stopped turning back to face the broken man standing in the middle of the shabby hotel room.

"We really want to help you. But you refuse us. Perhaps you like being the Winter Solider, huh?" And with that she shut the door. He listened to the knob turn and the door click shut. Her words cut him deeper than any blade. How could he have done that? How could he hurt them, when he didn't want to hurt them? Frantically he grabbed the few items of clothing that he owned and stumbled into the bathroom, making sure he had grabbed everything. If there was one thing The Winter Solider could do right it was disappear. He was about to stagger out when he noticed a white piece of paper neatly folded on the sink. It looked out of place in the worn bathroom. He slowly walked over and picked it up with shaking hands. He unfolded it delicately, forcing his right arm to move and listen to the commands he gave it. He read it, the only sound his ragged breathing and the panicked babbling of his neighbor. Sirens wailed in the distance, sounding like they were nearing the hotel.

_Bucky, if you ever need help, don't hesitate to call. _

_-Natasha & Steve_

At the bottom there were two phone numbers, labeled either with an S or an N. He let out a strangled noise and felt something warm and wet roll down both of his cheeks. Then he threw up.

**Poor Bucky. **

**Review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Water. Bucky had been informed on the importance of water many times. "Water is crucial to survival." One of his handlers had told him once, when they were on their way to an extremely dangerous mission. "If we cannot retrieve you right away, and you are on the run, make sure you find water." The solider had remained silent, staring at the floor of the truck as it bobbed side to side. His handler had leaned forward then, roughly grabbing Bucky's chin between his index finger and his thumb. He forced him to look up and meet his gaze. "But don't worry, we'll always find you."

Now, as Bucky remembered this, he pulled the jacket sleeve down over his left arm and jammed it in his pocket. It was late, around ten or eleven. The back of his throat burned and his mouth was dry. He had been lingering just out of sight of the Diner. He needed to go in. He needed water. Finally he turned, stood up a little straighter and walked up the deserted sidewalk. Despite the pain, Bucky used his right hand to open the door, and a small bell ran just above his head. A quick sweep told him the Diner was empty, and he couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief. He slowly walked over to a corner booth and sat down, staring out the window into the dark. Agitated, he shifted, frowning. Something in his mind was screaming to be heard. His eyebrows furrowed together, and suddenly the memory hit him, hard.

"_Come on, Steve," Bucky pleaded as they sat down in the booth. _

_Steve shook his head in panic and hid his face behind a menu. _

_Bucky frowned and pulled the menu down to view the small mans face. _

"_Just ask her to dance." he said, giving him an encouraging smile. They both glanced in the direction of the pretty little waitress. She was smiling at the elderly couple she was waiting on when the old woman said something to her. She threw her head back and laughed, her blond curls sliding over her shoulders as she did so. _

_Steve shook his head again, "Girls don't want to dance with a guy they can step on."_

_Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. A sly smile then crept over his face and he leaned in again, his voice low, "If you don't ask her to dance yourself," he murmured, Steve glancing up, "Then I'll ask her for you." _

_Steve's eyes widened. "You wouldn't…" he breathed. _

_Bucky slowly began to stand and Steve panicked, slamming the menu down and grabbing Bucky's shirt. _

"_Don't!" He begged. Bucky laughed good naturedly and sat back down, smoothing out his shirt from where Steve had had it balled up in his fist. _

"_You're a jerk." Steve mumbled with a frown. He couldn't quite stay angry at his best friend though, and the corners of his mouth curled into a smile._

"_Punk." _

"Hi there!" A soft voice jerked him out of the memory and he looked to his side. A young woman was standing next to his with a pad of paper and a pen in her hand. She was blonde, like the girl from his memory, and she smiled cheerfully at him. He decided she was only about twenty-two or twenty-three.

"Er, hello." he mumbled awkwardly. She smiled at him broadly revealing the top row of her white teeth.

"What can I get for you?" she asked.

"Just some water, please." he replied. She looked at him and tilted her head.

"That's it?" she asked. If he didn't know better, he'd say she almost sounded concerned. No one was ever concerned about the Winter solider.

He nodded and she grabbed the menu off the table and briskly walked to the back. She returned a moment later and set a massive glass of water on the table. She gave him a look he couldn't identify, and disappeared behind the swinging doors again. Bucky took a drink, feeling the cold water sooth his aching throat, before stopping and staring out the window again into the night. Almost instantly he was bombarded with another memory.

_Steve and Bucky were laughing as they walked down the street. Bucky turned his head to look at the smaller man who was walking beside him, his shoulders still shaking from the joke Bucky had cracked. He loved that he could make Steve laugh like no one else could. He turned his attention back to the sidewalk. Bucky's eyes locked on a pair of doves, pure white ones that seemed to gleam in the sunlight. The flew in a strange way that almost looked like they were dancing around each other in the air. He was still looking intently at two white doves ahead of them when he heard the ragged breathing. Instantly his head snapped around and he saw Steve at his side, panting awkwardly. _

"_Whoa, Steve are you okay?" he asked, concerned. _

_Steve coughed loudly and attempted to take a breath, "I cant…breathe…" he wheezed before coughing again, the fit bringing him to his knees on the side walk. Fear clutching his heart, Bucky struggled with his pants pocket before he gripped the inhaler, kneeling down to eye level with his friend and pushing the inhaler into Steve's shaking hands. Steve placed the end in his mouth and pushed the top, struggling to breath in what medicine he could. Bucky could tell almost instantly Steve started to get relief. Steve pumped it again, breathing in more deeply than the first time. With a final pump, the attack seemed to have subsided. Steve was still breathing heavily, but it was obvious he was getting air. Bucky laughed nervously and gently clapped a hand on Steve's shaking shoulder. _

"_You alright now, buddy?" He asked, smiling nervously. _

_Steve nodded and Bucky helped him to his feet. People had stopped walking to watch as the scene unfolded, but when they saw Steve rising to his feet, they went about their business. _

"_How about next time you don't make such a scene?" Bucky teased softly. _

"_How about you don't try and kill me with your jokes." Steve fired back just as teasingly. _

"_Hey, it'll make a good story though. Now I can tell everyone I'm so funny my best friend almost died laughing." Bucky said with a triumphant smirk. _

_Steve let out a rough chuckle. He turned the inhaler over in his hands. "Hey, Buck?" he asked. His voice had taken on a serious tone. _

"_Yes?"_

"_Is this one of my inhalers?"_

"_Yes it is."  
Steve looked at him and smiled. _

"_What?" Bucky asked. _

"_Why do you carry one of my inhalers around with you?" Steve asked._

"_Just in case you need it. Like times like this. I wouldn't want you to keel over when your with me. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." Bucky replied with a shrug. He tried to think of a joke to lighten the mood but couldn't. He shrugged again. _

"_Hmm." Steve replied, turning the inhaler over again before handing it back to Bucky. _

"_What?" Bucky asked. _

"_I just find it funny," Steve said looking up to meet Bucky's gaze, "that you are so prepared to save my life but if it came right down to it I couldn't save yours." _

The Solider felt the presence of someone standing beside him again, and his turned quickly, only to see the Waitress. She looked just as startled as him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She said softly. He looked to her hands, which were holding a bowl with red liquid inside. She noticed this and said quickly, "You look hungry. I, uh, thought this might be good for you. I mean, I thought you might like it."

"Я не имею никаких денег." he murmured.

For a moment he was puzzled by the puzzlement on her face. He realized he had spoken in Russian, and tried again, "I don't have any money."

"Its okay, its on the house." She replied.

He looked at her, confused.

"Its free." she clarified.

He felt his cheeks grow warm for some reason, and he felt inclined to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"No, no its okay. I know what its like to feel out of place in a new country." She slid into the seat across from him.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Canada. When I came here I only spoke french, so it was hard for the first couple of months." She said, a sort of wistful look entering her eyes. "What about you? I didn't recognize that language."

"Er, Russia." she nodded and he added quickly, "but I was born here."

"And your family moved." she murmured, more to herself, he thought.

"Something like that." he muttered. There was silence for a couple of moments before she pushed the bowl to him.

"Its tomato. I hope you like that." She fretted.

"I don't know." he whispered, looking into the red liquid.

"Then try it!" she said excitedly.

He looked at the bowl nervously before using his right are to grab a spoon. The dipped it in the red liquid and brought it to his lips. He glanced at her and she nodded encouragingly.

He took a sip. The flavor exploded on his tongue and kind of took him by surprise. They never gave him things like this at HYDRA. He couldn't even recall them letting him eat.

"Do you like it?" she pressed.

"Yes." he said in surprise.

She smiled and started chatting away while he sipped on the soup, with him joining in sometimes. And for the first time, The Solider actually felt like a person. He made a joke and she began to laugh.

"You're really funny, you know that?" she said as she caught her breath.

"Well, once my best friend almost died laughing so a guess so." He was shocked as the words left his mouth. Bucky hadn't meant to say that, they just came out. The girl giggled. He finished the soup and reached for the napkin. Her laughter ceased almost instantly, and he looked up to see what was wrong. With a flash of panic he realized he had reached with his left arm, the light of the Diner glinting off of the metal plates of his hand. Her eyes widened with terror, as she realized she was sharing a booth with one of the worlds most dangerous assassins. She looked like she was about to scream.

A hundred ways to kill her instantly flashed through Bucky's mind, but he knew he couldn't kill her. He was up in an instant, with speed unmatched he reached across the table with his metal arm and gripped her throat. Now she did scream, it was cut short though as he squeezed. His index finger and thumb instictively found the carotid arteries and he applied pressure, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She struggled for a moment more, then went limp as she passed out. Gently, Bucky laid her down on the seat of the booth, and stood back, watching her for a moment to make sure she was breathing.

Then, like a ghost he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky decided to keep a low profile after he was forced to assault the girl. The story appeared in the news he knew, and he also knew it would attract unwanted attention. In this time Bucky felt a new emotion; guilt. Well, it wasn't exactly new. He felt guilty for killing all those people throughout the years, for hurting Steve, for shooting Natasha, but this kind of guilt was different. He felt guilty for hurting the girl. Bucky had glimpsed her name tag as he fled the scene. Stacy. He felt bad for hurting Stacy after all she had done was show him undeserved kindness. How had he re-payed her for that kindness? By choking her until she passed out. Just thinking about it made his stomach twist.

After about a week of hiding in an abandon building the pain in his shoulder became unbearable. The pain in his stomach had grown more intense as well, and he felt weak. Maybe he should go out and find more soup. He remembered he'd had the same pain before Stacy had given him the soup. After he had consumed it the pain had subsided. Bucky decided that he must leave, he had stayed here to long anyway. One thing HYDRA had taught him was to never stay in one place too long. He was going to wait until dark, however. It was like the Solider had been programmed for the shadows. Under the cover of night he could be invisible, knowing all the right tricks. He also knew he could be terrifying. Bucky had learned humans seem to be more fearful at night, and many times he had used this to his advantage on missions.

Bucky waited until the sun had fully gone down and there was no light left in the sky before he left. He gathered up his belongings and waited as a car roared past, before slipping out through a shattered window. The night was brisk and he gathered his jacket around himself, cupping his hands in front of his face and blowing to warm up his right hand. He looked at his left hand in the dark, and marveled at the way it still seemed to glow silver. Had it been made to do that? Perhaps it had been designed that way so even when he was sent on missions at night his victims could see who their attacker was and feel terror. Bucky remembered HYDRA loved inducing terror.

He was busy thinking when a car pulled up behind him. He spun around as it pulled up alongside him and was fully prepared to fight. _Don't worry, we'll always find you. _His handlers words ran though his head as the black cars window started to roll down.

"Hey." A voice from inside said. Bucky stood still and peered into the darkness of the car. He didn't recognize that voice, but he wouldn't put it past HYDRA to send someone he didn't know to pick him up.

"Its not safe out here." The voice said again. Now the voice was starting to ring a bell. He had heard that voice before. He wasn't sure from where though... The light from the inside of the car flipped on, and Bucky saw a dark haired man in a suit.

"You'll be safe if you come with me." The man said.

"Who are you?" Bucky rasped.

The man struggled with his pocket for a moment before pulling out a small book. He opened it, revealing an I.D. and a badge. "Agent Phil Coulson. I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D.," the man paused and added, "Well, was. Now I'm not really sure what I'm apart of."

Bucky eyed the man suspiciously.

"You have every right to be suspicious, James, but I promise you it would be worth your time to hear what I have to say." Coulson said calmly. "We have a wonderful place. Keeps prying eyes and unwanted quests out. Many people who are just like you have taken refuge there." He paused to let his words sink in. "I'm offering you a spot. I've already talked with the owner of the Safe House. He says you're welcome, as long as you stay after from his tools."

"Why should I trust you?" Barnes growled.

Coulson sighed and shrugged. "I suppose you don't have a reason. You looked tired, hungry... I can tell you're injured." Bucky touched his right arm self consciously. "In short you look like hell." Coulson said, not breaking his gaze with the Solider. "I can help you..._we_ can help you. But you have to let us."

Bucky was tired. He was filthy, he wasn't quite sure what hungry meant, but he was also in a lot of pain. He hesitated a moment more, before walking over to the car. Coulson smiled and unlocked the door, allowing the Solider to slide into the seat next to him.

"Good choice." he murmured, shifting and driving off. The Solider stared out the window into the dark, and thought he saw a shape retreat back into the darkness. It was then he realized he had made a good choice. HYDRA was after him. Who would they send to retrieve the Winter Solider though? Surely not an ordinary agent. Bucky could easily take one or even five of those out at once. No, HYDRA would send someone they believed to be an even match. _Or perhaps someone they believed to be stronger_, Bucky realized with a flash. The sooner they reached the Safe House the better.


	5. Chapter 5

The two men had been in the car for about fifteen minutes before two black SUV's appeared out of the darkness, flanking the car. A third materialized from behind, and they kept a steady speed along side them. Bucky, body tense, broke the silence.

"Should we be worried about that?"

The mans eyebrows rose and he peered in the rear-view mirror. Bucky watched him, and in an instant knew from his body language there was no threat. Coulson murmured, "I know them. They're... good people." Bucky studied him for a moment more before turning his gaze back out the window.  
They drove in silence for a couple more minutes before Coulson spoke up.

"I must say, its and honor to meet you." He almost sounded giddy with excitement, and this tone caused the Solider to look over at him questioningly. "I mean officially. I read your case files and, uh, was sort of a fan of yours when I was a kid."

The Solider continued to stare with uncomprehending eyes. A fan?

"Yes, a fan." Phil answered. Bucky hadn't realized he'd asked that out-loud.

"How did you know about me?" Bucky asked.

"Well," Phil paused and slowed the car, turning left at an empty intersection. The three other vehicles didn't slow their speed, yet took the turn flawlessly and soon reclaimed their former positions alongside and behind the car. "I was a massive fan of Captain America as a kid, and I will say at the risk of sounding creepy that I still am." At this point Phil Coulson's voice lost the very professional tone it had had up until now and he said breathlessly, "I had all the comics and the merchandise and everything. However, I was always fond of Captain Steven Rogers best friend and sidekick as well. That's you! And now I've met both of you! Both of my heroes!" A massive smile manipulated his features and his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than before.

Bucky thought the man seemed a little too excited and was beginning to feel uncomfortable when Phil seemed to regain control of himself. "Anyway, it has been a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky knew he was supposed to say something now and he mumbled a small, "Thank you." He knew after he said it by the way that the agents face fell that this was not the right thing to say. He had plenty of time to brood over it though, because it was three more hours before they reached their destination.

Bucky and Coulson had arrived at the airport around twelve that night. Coulson exited the car and had made a call, flashed a card at the entrance and less than twenty minutes later they had boarded a small plane and were immediately whisked away. The flight was two hours long and rather uninteresting other than Coulson's occasional attempts to start a conversation or when the Solider started to doze off. The feeling was new and unwelcome, and each time his eyes would slide shut he would awaken with a violent jolt when his head would hit the back of his seat. He forced himself to sit ramrod straight for the rest of the flight, eyes wide and muscles tense. Finally after what seemed like an eternity a shimmering group of lights came into view in the distance. The plane, however, cut away and made a sudden landing on a small strip of asphalt in the middle of nowhere. When they exited, a black car much like the other was waiting for them. Another long drive made Bucky feel restless. His fingers twitched and he frowned very deeply as he peered out the window. Coulson seemed to notice, and he switched the radio on low to help ease the painful silence that thickened the air. At long last they entered the city.

Bucky's eyes widened when he saw the massive tower come into view. The first rose-colored wisps of light in the sky made it clear that dawn was arriving. Coulson, who was glancing eagerly between the Solider and the roadway said, "That is where you will be staying."

"How many people live there?" Bucky breathed, staring in awe.

"Eight live there on and off depending on their work schedule."

Bucky turned and stared at him incredulously, "Only eight?" he gasped.

"Yes. I know, its a small number for such a massive tower. However," he sighed and chucked softly, "Their personalities fill the tower." Bucky wasn't sure how a personality could fill a tower, however he didn't focus on it because he was distracted. A sad tone entered the agents voice and Bucky turned to see why. Coulson's face was heavy with emotion, from sadness, to longing, to sentiment, and several other emotions he couldn't identify. It made him very uncomfortable and he heard the man mutter under his breath, "God, I miss them." As they made a turn.

He pulled up to the Tower and stopped, turning the key in the ignition. The car hummed and then fell silent.

"Well, Sergent Barnes, this is where you get off." Phil said.

The Solider nodded and unbuckled, grabbing his hat off the dash. He swung the door open and stepped out, before hesitating and leaning back in.

"Thank you." he said softly.

"You're welcome, James." Coulson smiled kindly, and Bucky could tell he was a good man. He was glad he hadn't killed him like he had been planning.

"What do I tell them of how I got here?" He asked uncertainly.

"Tell them an old friend dropped you off."

Bucky nodded and gently shut the door, listening to the click. The car roared to life, then soundlessly drove away. Bucky waited until he couldn't see the early dawn light reflecting off the roof of the car anymore, before he turned and looked at the doors before him. The Winter Solider couldn't remember a time that he felt more uneasy than this. He decided he was going to enter the tower as quite as possible. He didn't want to awaken anyone this early, because if he did surely he would get punished. He walked up the walkway silently, never taking his eyes off the two, heavy looking, glass doors. Stealth was everything. He stopped just before reaching the door and hesitated. _Alright, _He thought, _Ve_ry _quietly now, _ Then very gently placed his hand on the door handle, and proceeded to rip the door from its hinge, glass shattering everywhere with a sound loud enough to wake the dead.


	6. Chapter 6

Something along the lines of _'Well shit' _ran through the Soldiers mind. That certainly did not go as expected. He stared in numbed shock at the shattered glass on the concrete, and was still holding the door handle in his left hand when an alarm sounded. He'd heard many alarms in his life and he had been taught to pay them no heed. However, this alarm sounded particularly loud and frightening, and he couldn't help but look around for some sort of cover. The Solider was just about to slip away when he heard feet pounding down the stairs from inside the tower. Bucky turned, sudden panic screaming at him to flee, when he heard a voice behind him command, "Freeze!"

The Solider stopped. He had been through this _so many times_. It was almost like a game. All the time in the car, and the plane had made him restless. He needed to let some of his frustration out. He kept his back to the man, slowly raising his hands.

"Keep your hands where I can see them." The voice said again.

He stood completely still, hands above his head. Bucky chuckled a nervous chuckle.

"Now turn, _slowly_, and face me." He did as he was told, and found himself staring down the shaft of an arrow. The man on the other side looked calm and collected, his gaze and aim unwavering. When he saw the smile on Bucky's lips, he narrowed his eyes.

"Enjoying this?"

"Не так ли?" The Soldier replied. Bucky saw nothing but red. In a flash his right arm came up, sweeping the bow to the side of his face. He heard the arrow whiz by as the archer fired a moment too late. His left arm then wrapped around his opponents throat. He easily tossed the man at the other sliding glass door, the glass exploding as the archers body slammed through it. Bucky stormed toward him, fully expecting the fight to be over. The archer recovered almost instantly, pulling another arrow from its sheath. To the Soldiers surprise, the archer miraculously seemed unfazed. The opponent pulled the string back, ready to fire again, but the bottom of the Soldiers combat boot slammed into the middle of his chest.

* * *

Clint Barton was not on the top of his game today. He had just returned from a long mission in South America, in which he had stopped an invasion of hostile space terrorists and he was exhausted. He certainly deserved a night of deserved rest in his own bed. Clint could feel his ribs break. Each crack, each snap, each shatter. He could feel them, he wasn't sure how many, mangled and twisted, tearing out of the muscles that were supposed to hold them in place. He let out a strangled scream of agony, which only made the pain worse. He skidded across the floor, only stopping when he thumped into the wall. Delirious from the pain, he managed to duck out of the way of the metal fist flying toward his head. It connected with the wall behind him, and he heard the plaster crack and break. _Tony is going to be so pissed, _he thought as a dribble of blood ran out of his mouth, and struggled to crawl forward on his knees and elbows. He felt the Solider close in for the kill.

* * *

"Bucky! Bucky, what are you doing?! Bucky STOP!"

Bucky heard someone screaming his name through the roaring of blood in his ears. The red haze began to fade and he became aware of someone grabbing him from behind. They were screaming for him to stop. Bucky thought he recognized that voice. _Steve? _Bucky let out a scream of his own as he tried to break free from Steve's crushing grip. Bucky then fully became aware when he heard a feminine voice scream in his ear, "STOP IT! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" He looked down and saw his left arm gripping the archers throat. The mans struggles were growing weaker, and his face was nearly purple. He gasped and released the archers throat. The red haired women, Natasha he remembered, crouched by the mans side, grabbing his hand and blocking Bucky's view.

"No... No, no, no, NO! Oh God No!" Bucky screamed, struggling again to break free. Steve's grip didn't weaken, and now he was forcefully pulling Bucky back, away from the chaos. Several other people were running into the room, a dark haired man that looked like he hadn't slept in days, a muscular man with long blonde hair and a man in glasses. Bucky was screaming unintelligible things now, half in Russian, half in English. All the people were yelling and Bucky watched as he was forced backward into a smaller room. More of a container, really. The doors in front of them slid shut. His throat felt raw and suddenly his strength left him. He went limp, and crumpled to the floor of the elevator, Steve following. He hugged Bucky close, trying his best to comfort his friend.

"I'm sorry!" Bucky blurted out.

"Shh, I know, I know." Steve replied, rubbing Bucky's back soothingly. It did little to comfort him, however.

I'm sorry. Мне очень жаль. So sorry. I'm sorry. Мне очень жаль. I'm so sorry. Sorry. Мне очень жаль.

**Translations for this chapter: Не так ли? (Aren't you?)**

** Мне очень жаль. (I am sorry)**


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky wasn't sure how Steve managed to move him into the bedroom they were currently standing in. He was shaking, not so much from fear but more from shock, and didn't recall exiting the elevator. The room was dark and cool with a crisp clean smell that the Solider found oddly comforting. It reminded him of the room he'd stayed in once during a mission. That one mission was the only time he'd stayed in a hotel room, and if he remembered correctly, he had quite enjoyed it. But this was not a hotel room, this was his new owners base and he had just attacked one of their guards. Surely someone was going to come and administer a punishment. He was scanning the room for any potential dangers when Steve appeared in front of him. Still in a sort of trance, Bucky continued to stare right through Steve. When it became clear to the other man Bucky wasn't hearing a word that was spoken to him, he placed his hands on Bucky's shoulders. Cap fully expected a knife to the ribs, but when no move was made by the dark haired man, Steve gently began steering him toward the bed.

Bucky was forced to sit when his legs bumped into the mattress and Steve released him and backed away, taking a moment to think. The blonde ran his hands through his hair and looked at Bucky. This was not how he imagined Bucky coming back to him would go. He'd believed Bucky was moving past the Winter Solider part of himself, but the events that had just unfolded proved Steve horribly wrong. Now he looked at his best friend. His broken best friend. Bucky was bleeding profusely from a deep gash above his eye. Steve hadn't really seen Bucky since the incident on the Helicarrier. He honestly hadn't looked at Bucky too well that night at the hotel. His pain pills had worn off and he had mainly been focusing on not throwing up from the pain. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he looked at Bucky now. His usually tanned skin held a pale sickly green hue, his long dark hair hanging around his face in matted clumps. The dark circles around his eyes suggested he hadn't had a decent nights sleep in awhile, and judging from his filthy clothing he hadn't bathed in awhile either. Steve noticed dried dirt and blood caked the visible parts of skin. Steve scrubbed his face with his palm and took a deep breath. He turned and walked into the bathroom, stopping in the doorway to look back at him.

"Don't move." He told him. Bucky didn't seem to hear and he continued to stare straight ahead. Steve padded into the bathroom and snatched up a wash cloth. He was digging around in the cabinet beneath the sink for the First Aid Kit when his phone rang.

"Natasha," he answered on the second ring.

"Steve," she replied, her voice soft.

Steve lowered his voice, "Is Clint alright?" he pushed aside an Iron Man toothbrush that looked like it had been down there for years.

"He's got three broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a missing molar. Oh, and plenty of cuts and bruises." Her voice was flat and quiet as she listed of the injuries, and with each word Steve felt like he was being stabbed.

"Will he be okay?" Steve forced out.

"The ribs will mend, as will the wrist. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery." Natasha paused and when she spoke again he could hear the smile in her voice. "However, he's pretty upset about the tooth."

Steve couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. That sounded like Clint.

"Are you at the hospital?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm with him right now. They've got him on some pretty strong pain killers and I don't feel comfortable leaving him when he's drugged up like this."

Steve heard the sound of fabric rustling on the other line and heard Clint's voice. He heard Natasha's voice, then Clint's again and Natasha whispered into the phone," He wants to talk to you."

"Okay." Steve said, biting his lip nervously.

There was some more rustling, then Clint's slurred voice.

"Hey Stheve," Clint mumbled.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?" Steve asked.

"Like I thook a beating from a guy with a metal arm." Clint pronounced each word slowly and carefully. Steve could tell he had a piece of cotton in his mouth.

Steve chuckled and said, "I see it hasn't taken any of the sass out of you."

"Never. Stheve, is that guy okay? Nat told me he wath your friend."

Steve was taken back for a moment. Bucky had just almost killed him and Clint was _worried_ about him? "He's got a few cuts and bruises but other than that he's fine."

"Oh!" Clint gasped on the other end dramatically. "I'm stho thorry!"

Steve could tell the apology was genuine and not sarcastic.

"Its not your fault Clint, you were only defending yourself." Steve replied.

"In this case I'm glad I missed." Clint said, then declared a moment later, "My mouth hurts."

"Well, maybe you should rest then. You need to keep your strength up so you get better." Steve suggested.

"I'm sleepy I'm gonna go. Bye Stheve." Clint slurred then Steve heard him yell loudly a moment later, "NAT! Phone." Steve could heard Natasha scolding him lightly on the other end as she took her phone back.

"The medication is making him act like a toddler. Not that that is much of a change from his usual behavior." She said breathlessly. Then she asked seriously, "How are you holding up?"

"Trying to get him settled in. He's in some of shocked state right now and isn't moving or speaking."

"Don't get hurt, Steve." She said after a moment of hesitation.

"He wouldn't hurt me." Steve replied, wishing he could believe that.

"Maybe Bucky wouldn't have hurt you. This is the Winter Soldier now." Natasha said coldly.

"This is Bucky!" Steve snapped.

"He's dangerous!" Natasha exclaimed.

"He's my friend!" Steve replied.

"Have you ever wondered what you would do if Bucky isn't there anymore?" Natasha pressed.

Steve didn't like where this conversation was going. "He is still there." he replied through gritted teeth.

"You say that, but we don't have any proof. He could just be waiting for his opportunity to kill you." Natasha continued.

"If he wanted to kill me he wouldn't have pulled me out of that river, Natasha." Steve growled.

"Perhaps he acted under impulse." she retorted.

"Perhaps he acted to save his friend!" Steve shot back. There was silence on the other line and Steve sighed heavily and tilted his head back against the cabinet, closing his eyes. "This is my best friend we're talking about here, Natasha. You didn't give up on Clint when he was brain washed, no matter how dangerous he was."

"This is different-"

"There is no difference here." Steve interrupted. Natasha was silent again.

"Alright." She murmured at last. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright. You're right Rogers."

"Thank you." he breathed.

"Remind me to punch him in the head when I get back. Maybe we can make him snap out of it." She said, a comical tone about her voice now.

"Something tells me that wont work." he replied, allowing himself to smile.

"Take it easy Cap." She said.

"Bye Tasha." he murmured and ended the call.


	8. Chapter 8

"I shouldn't be here."

The Soldiers voice echoed from the doorway, Steve jumping at the sound of his voice.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his heart filling with dread. He turned to face the assassin, the First Aid box resting in his hands.

"I'm dangerous. I cant control my actions." The Soldiers gaze wavered, and for a moment Steve thought he almost saw tears in his eyes. "Something is malfunctioning. I'm seeing things from another time. From another world. And you're there. You're there in almost all of them." he said, his right hand coming up to push his hair out of his face. He looked to be panicking now, his eyes stretched wide and his breaths coming rapid gulps.

"You're not a machine, Bucky. You aren't malfunctioning. You are remembering." Steve replied gently, slowly approaching him.

"They said they could fix me if I malfunctioned," the man continued as if he had not heard, "They would take me to the chair, and say everything was going to be okay. They probably know I'm malfunctioning now. They'll be here to collect me soon."

Steve felt as if there was a knife embedded in his stomach. "Buck, calm down. You're safe now, they cant reach you here."

"They'll never stop looking. They'll search every building of every city of every State. They'll comb over this country until they have what they desire, even if it takes another seventy years." Bucky prophesied grimly.

Steve slowly lowered his hands onto his friends shoulders and Bucky tensed up beneath his palms. He refused to look Steve in the eye, deciding that everything in the bathroom was more interesting than the man in front of him.

"I will die before I let them take you again."

Bucky let out a shuddering sigh and looked at the ground. He nodded stiffly. Steve slapped his shoulder lightly and turned back into the bathroom.

"So, I think you need a shower." He said light heartedly. "And possibly a shave." he added after a moment. He beckoned for the Soldier to follow him deeper into the bathroom, and he forced himself to move. He directed him over to the shower and pointed at the handle.

"Pull on it, gently, to start it then adjust it to a temperature you desire." He said, then turned and pointed to the sink. "There's a razor and some shaving cream over there if you want to shave, and there is a clean towel for you to dry off with on the toilet seat." He looked a Bucky and asked, "Are you hungry?"

The assassin nodded slowly.

"What would you like?" Steve asked.

"Uh," The Soldier said quietly, "Whatever you would like."

Steve looked at him closely. He nodded after a moment and said as he stepped out of the room, "While you shower I'll make us lunch, okay? I'll leave some clean clothes on your bed for you to change into when you're done."

"Steve." Bucky said urgently. Steve stopped and looked at him closely. "That man…Is he dead?"

"He has some injuries, but he is expected to make a full recovery. He seemed excited you were here when I talked to him on the phone actually." Steve answered.

"I'm sorry." Bucky added.

"I know you are. Perhaps you should tell him as well when he gets home from the hospital?" Steve suggested gently.

"There is no amount of apologies that can make up for what I did too him." Bucky spat bitterly.

"You'd be surprised Buck. Listen, both of you were confused. He didn't know why you were here or who you were. You didn't know why he was threatening you. He doesn't hold you accountable. Clint Barton is not the type that holds grudges against his friends." Steve explained.

Bucky nodded again and listened to the door click shut, letting the words sink in. He stood in the middle of the bathroom for a moment, feeling the cool air pricking his skin before peeling off his filthy clothes. He left them in a dirty pile on the floor and now faced a new challenge; the shower. Pull on it, Steve had said. Bucky reached out with his right arm and gave a firm tug. Nothing. He sighed and reached out with his left, giving it another, more aggressive tug. He heard the wall creaking and quickly released the handle, looking up and making sure he hadn't caused any damage. None. Good. With his right arm he gripped the handle again, and turned it to the left slightly while pulling. Instantly cold water rushed forth from shower head and doused him with water that felt like it came straight from the arctic. Shivering, Bucky remembered Steve had said he could adjust the temperature. He grabbed the handle and turned it south, only to feel the water get colder. He let out a gasp and fumbled with it again, turning it all the way around. The water warmed and continue too, until it was like liquid fire was being sprayed on him. I've driven government tanks that were less complicated than this! He thought as he spun the handle in all directions. Finally he settled on a spot that if he moved the handle one centimeter left would scald him, or on centimeter in the other directing freeze him.  
Bucky quickly located a bottle of shampoo (he quickly discovered it burned like lava if it got in your eyes) and scrubbed at his hair. He rinsed his hair and found and used something called conditioner, which he assumed was also for hair from reading the back. After he scrubbed his body with a sweet smelling soap he turned of the shower which he would now be referring to as El Diablo, and dried off. Now he walked over to the sink and eyed the razor. He remembered shaving at HYDRA, so this should be easy, right? Wrong. A dozen Russian and English curses, three cuts and thirty minutes later his face was clean shaven. He felt he at least needed to make himself presentable to Steve, to he brushed the knots out of his hair next. When he padded into the bedroom a pair of jeans, and a gray T-shirt, socks and a black pair of converse shoes were waiting for him. He pulled them on and opened his door, not sure what to do now. He felt better now that he was clean and in some fresh clothes.

"Steve?" he called down the empty hallway. He smelled something burning and a moment later a blonde head poked around the corner of another room.

"Over here!" Steve said, then disappeared into the room again.

Puzzled, Bucky walked toward the doorway and heard Steve curse loudly from the inside followed by a loud clattering sound. When he rounded the corner, he was greeted by a cloud of smoke and Steve, with his shirt over his nose, waving a dish towel in the air, ushering the smoke toward an open window. A blackened pan lay in the sink, still smoking. Whatever had been inside was unidentifiable now, burnt beyond recognition.

Bucky leaned on the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest, and couldn't help the smirk that played on his face.

"I just remembered something." Bucky said, fighting off the laugh that threatened to escape.

"Whats that?" Steve panted, a bit of black stuff smeared across his cheek and onto his nose.

"You really suck at cooking."

**Thanks to all you wonderful readers and people who review! You ladies and gents motivate me so much :)**

**Lots of love, **

**WarriorOfTheWeek**


	9. Chapter 9

Steve decided it would be risky to introduce the others in the tower to Bucky at this time. He did not want to over-whelm the ex-assassin, and he didn't want another incident like with Clint. Because Bucky was still extremely unstable, Steve decided to move Bucky to his floor of the tower. He wanted to be with his friend as much as he could so he could monitor his behavior so he didn't cause harm to himself or others. Bucky slept in the empty bedroom next to Steve's room, but Steve knew Bucky didn't sleep through the night. When Steve didn't heard Bucky crying out in his sleep through the wall, other strange occurrences happened.

The first night Bucky spent on Steve's floor of the tower Steve awoke with an uneasy feeling. Something was wrong. He wasn't sure how he knew, he just did. He'd pushed the covers back and stood up, still half asleep, and nearly had a heart attack when he came face-to-face with the Soldier. Bucky had been standing next to Steve's bed for God only knows how long. His eyes had been glazed over and he was staring straight ahead, much like something out of a horror movie. His body had been rigid, and his mouth was set in a firm line. Steve had dismissed it for sleepwalking, and guided his friend back to his own room. After that, Steve slept lightly, stirring at every sound.

Several nights later, Steve awoke to the sound of his door creaking open. He had laid completely still, eyes wide in the dark. He would be lying if he said he hadn't at least been alarmed. He heard foot steps retreating to the corner of his room, and he slowly and silently turned his head to look. He saw Bucky sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest in front of his window, the light from the full moon glinting off the metal arm. Bucky had his head tilted up, staring out the window and up at the sky. Bucky had always liked the stars, Steve remembered. Steve loudly shifted in the bed and groaned, allowing Bucky to know he was awake. He sat up in his bed, rubbing the side of his face and squinting his eyes as if he had just woken up.

"Bucky?" he asked gruffly. "What are you doing in here?"

Bucky scrambled to his feet, eyes wide, he retreated out of the light of the window. "I-I just...I couldn't sleep and..." Bucky stammered. His cheeks burned and he retreated further into the shadows of the room. He honestly had no good explanation for being in Steve's room at 2 in the morning. "I-I'll just leave now." Bucky kept his head low, strands of hair over his face as he briskly walked toward the door. He was so incredibly embarrassed that Steve had caught him being clingy in the only way in which he knew how to be. In all honestly, he didn't like being alone. He had never been alone in HYDRA and, judging from the memories he was slowly gaining back, he had not been alone much when he was Bucky Barnes either.

"Bucky, its okay. Do you need to talk about something?" Steve asked from where he was still sitting in bed. Bucky stood in the doorway with his back facing Steve, debating whether he should answer or sprint back to his own room. He heard the sound of Steve's bedside lamp being switched on and the sound of Steve getting out of bed. Steve's hand met his shoulder a moment later and Bucky slowly turned to face him when his cheeks were done burning.

"I remembered something." He lied. It was better to say this than admit the real reason for being in his best friends room at 2 a.m.; That the fierce ex-Russian assassin was afraid of the dark.

"What is it?" Steve asked gently.

"Um," Bucky stalled, wracking his brain for something. "Did...did I used to have a dog?" He asked eventually as a fuzzy image of a big black and white animal appearing in his mind.

Steve seemed to light up like a Christmas tree. "Yes, yes you did!" he said happily.

"Was it black and white?" Bucky asked again as more memories of the dog surfaced.

"Yes. His name was Spot and he was a Pit Bull terrier. Hold on a moment." Bucky turned and stepped back into the room now as Steve turned and walked over to his desk. He dug around in one of the drawers and he unearthed an old folder out of the mess. Bucky walked closer, feeling curiosity blossom.

"Here," Steve gestured to the bed and walked over and sat down on the edge. Bucky followed as sat next to Steve. The folder was opened, and lots of pictures and papers were revealed. Some were of Steve with people Bucky didn't recognize but looked modern, while others were yellowed and the edges crinkled and torn. Steve let out a soft "Aha!" when he found the picture he was looking for. He pulled it out and handed it too Bucky, smiling broadly.

The picture was yellowed and crinkled, but it had withstood the test of time triumphantly, as the image was hardly faded at all. Two boys, one blonde and one brunette were hanging out the window of what appeared to be a tree house. The blonde boy looked frail and thin, and was at least a head shorter than the brunette. However he looked just as happy, and both boys were smiling broadly. The brunette boy had his head tipped back and appeared to be laughing as if someone had told him a joke. In between the two of them, a big white dog was standing on its hind legs, its paws hooked over the window ledge. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth and its eyes were squinted as if it too were laughing. A massive black spot covered half of its face, and Bucky noticed each boy had one hand resting on the dogs head.

"I remember this." Bucky murmured. "Some how you and I got him into the tree house with us." He smiled at the memory.

Steve laughed. "Yep, and your mother was so upset."

"Obviously not upset enough to not take a picture of it." Bucky replied distantly, a smile on his face as more memories of Spot filled his mind. Playing fetch. Playing tag. Playing with Steve and Spot. Laying on his back looking up at the sky with Spot next tot him doing the same. Cuddling with the dog late at night when he was scared of the dark. A car...a car running him over...

"He was ran over..." Bucky said softly, feeling a sudden wave of grief wash over him.

Steve nodded sadly. "Yes. He loved to chase cars. Unfortunately, he payed for his dangerous hobby with his life." Steve said. He looked distant now as he recalls the day the dog died. Steve had been about fifteen and Bucky about sixteen. Bucky had had Spot since he was two, and Spot had been just a pup then. Other than Steve, that dog had been Bucky's world.

Steve closed the folder and Bucky offered the picture back to him. Steve shook his head. "No, you can have it." he said with a smile.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Steve said happily. "I've had it for seventy years. You can have it for seventy more." He walked back over to the desk and opened the drawer, placing the folder inside and shutting it firmly.

"I really like animals." Bucky murmured to himself as he stared at the picture.

"Well, maybe tomorrow we can go down to a shelter, pick out a cat-" Steve started and broke off when Bucky's head snapped up.

"Really?" He asked, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement.

"If you'd like that." Steve replied.

"What about a dog?" Bucky asked then held up the picture for Steve to see, "Like Spot?" he added.

Steve shook his head. "A dog would be too much of a hassle. I think a cat would be better for you right now."

Bucky looked down, slightly disappointed. "Okay." He stood, and slipped the picture into the pocket of his sweats. "I should go now, so you can sleep."

Steve nodded and yawned, his eyes growing heavy again. Bucky turned to walk out of the doorway but hesitated and turned to look at Steve again.

"Happy Birthday, by the way." Bucky said, then added, "Old man."

Steve grinned. "Hey!" he said in a teasing tone, "You're older than me, jerk!"

Bucky laughed and started to walk back to his room, muttering, "Punk." under his breath.

**Happy Fourth of July to all you lovely readers! And if you're not from America happy Friday/Saturday!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I re-wrote this chapter at least four times. **

But they didn't go out the next day. Or the next. Bucky was having flashback. Awful flashbacks. Flashbacks that would bring him to his knees wherever he stood. Flashbacks that made him confused and delirious. Steve had the bruises to prove it. The Winter Solider had come at him swinging in a blinded rage as he fought enemies that weren't really there. Bucky came back with a noticeable a nerving change. When he had realized as he stood over Steve, eyes wide with horror, what he had done and had retreated into the darkened hallway. Steve heard Bucky's door slam a moment later. His cheek ached and his stomach felt bruised from where the metal fist has slammed into it. The wall he was leaning against had a gaping hole in it (Tony was going to be thrilled about that) and his head was beginning to pound. However, he forced himself to rise and dust himself off. He went and sat outside Bucky's room, his back leaning against the door. However, no matter what he said, he didn't get a response.

* * *

He sat on his bed with his knees pulled up to this chest, eyes blank. He knew Steve was out there. The man on the other side of the door was speaking, telling stories that stirred something within the Solider. He didn't respond though. He just sat, silently, listening. The Asset wasn't sure how much time had passed before the stories turned into questions.

"Remember that time we snuck into Mrs. Jones backyard to get our baseball back as kids? I was too weak to climb the fence so you had to give me a boost?"

"Remember that time your dad took us camping and we fell into a patch of poison ivy?"

"Remember that time out convinced me to go skinny dipping in the river then you stole my clothes?"

"Remember when you made me ride the Cyclone at Coney Island and I threw up?"

"Remember when I was too sick to go out and play so you came in and sat with me all day, telling me stories and making me feel better?"

And the Solider did.

* * *

Steve had done his research. He had done so much research. To much research. He deserved an award of all the research he had done. Tony would have been proud of him. He'd done it all on his laptop, and he'd only gotten confused twice. After his conversation with Bucky last week, and his promise of possibly getting a pet for them, he'd done research into service animals. Steve was pleasantly surprised at what he had found. Many articles claimed that animals helped people recover from traumatic events, depression, disabilities, panic disorders and even provided comfort to the elderly and terminally ill. All of this had made him seriously consider getting Bucky a pet.

Now he logged back onto his laptop, using the towel around his shoulders to ruffle his wet hair. He'd taken a quick shower break, and now it was back to business. He hesitated on Google, then finally typed in, _New York_ _Animal Shelters. _He was still incredibly unsure, so he did what he always did when he was indecisive about something. He called Natasha.

"A pet?" Natasha's voice echoed on the other line when he told her.

Steve nodded as if she could see him and scrubbed the palm of his hand over his face for the hundredth time that evening. He continued scrolling through a list of local pet shelters with his phone in one hand, the other on the mouse pad.

"What kind of pet?" Natasha asked after the moment of silence.

"I don't know. Maybe a cat." Steve replied as he clicked on the link of a shelter that was only six blocks away.

"A cat?" Natasha replied. He could hear the smirk in her voice. "Why not a dog?"

"I don't think Tony would appreciate a untrained pup running around his tower drooling and peeing everywhere. Plus, don't you think that's a little much for a recovering brainwashed assassin?" Steve asked pointedly. He added after, "I've done some research into Service animals." 'Some' being the understatement of the century.

"Dogs make wonderful service animals. The unconditional love and companionship may do both of you well. And who said it has to be a pup?" She countered.

"I don't know, Nat. I just don't know." He sighed and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of resignation. He squeezed his eyes shut against the bright artificial light of his laptop and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids.

Natasha seemed to pick up on his tone.

"Its been rough, hasn't it?" she asked gently.

"I don't know what to do, Nat. He doesn't come out much, and when he does I try and start a conversation but he shuts down and mumbles some lame excuse and goes into his room again. It's like the more he remembers the more he pushes me away." Steve vented, feeling heat rise behind his eyes.

Natasha was quiet, then asked softly, "Has it ever occurred to you that he may be afraid of hurting you again?"

Now it was Steve's turn to be silent. Natasha let her words sink in before continuing, "The more he remembers how much you meant and still mean to him the more he'll most likely be terrified of hurting you. It was the same way with Clint. After that bastard Loki brainwashed him he was afraid of hurting me because every now and then he would still have the impulse. He tried to push me away too."

Steve contemplated this for a while. Natasha stayed on the line with him as he did so, both sitting in a comfortable silence until Steve spoke up again.

"How did you get your friend back?"

"I showed him a wasn't afraid, and that I cared for him deeply. I did things with him. Took him to amusement parks, the movies, even just out to lunch. I listened to what he had to say." She paused and then sighed. "Things will never be the same between you and Bucky. But, things can be similar. They may even be better."

Steve nodded and rubbed his eyes again. "Thank you, Natasha, I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well, for starters, you'd be lost a lot."

He chuckled and she did as well. When they lapsed back into a silence, Steve said, "Bucky really is sorry about Clint."

"I know he is."

"And Clint?"

"He knows as well."

"He is afraid there is no way he can make up for what happened."

Natasha chuckled now, and said, "Oh, I know a way!"

"You'll have to tell me tomorrow, right now I have to do something before I change my mind." Steve grumbled, shutting the laptop down.

"I will." Natasha said good-naturedly. They said goodbye and Steve ended the call. He pulled a jacket on and crept to the back of the apartment. He stood outside Bucky's door for a moment, listening. He couldn't hear anything, and he gathered up the nerve to knock.

"Buck?"

Steve could hear feet scrambling on the other side and the next moment, the door knob turned and the door opened partially.

"Hi, Steve." Bucky murmured softly.

"Hey, Buck. I'm going somewhere, and I'd like you to come with me." Steve said with an encouraging smile.

The door opened a little wider and Steve could see Bucky's metal arm gleaming. "I, uh, I don't think-"

"Oh, come on, it will be fun!" Steve exclaimed, then purposefully reached out and grabbed Bucky's left hand. Bucky looked mortified that Steve was touching the metal prosthetic, but Steve pretended he didn't notice and practically dragged Bucky out of the cool darkness of his room.

"Steve-" Bucky yelped, practically losing his footing. "Where are we going?"

Steve released Bucky's hand once he and his friend had stumbled into the living room and he tossed a jacket at Bucky.

"Lets go." Steve said eagerly.

"Its dark." Bucky stated.

"Point?" Steve asked, eyebrows arched. After a moment of silence Bucky let out a sigh.

"Punk." Bucky muttered under his breath.

And that's how Steve knew he was doing the right thing.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long guys. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. **


	11. Chapter 11

**DA DA DA DAAAAAA! **

**The next chapter is up for you lovelies!**

When the automatic doors slid back icy air welcomed the two. The air smelled harsh and there was an underlying scent of chemicals. It reminded Bucky of his room in HYDRA when he was allowed to stay awake for longer periods of time. The walls were covered with images of dogs and cats snuggling with people or people smiling at their pets, and somehow it relaxed Bucky. They came to a halt in front of a counter, where a heavyset women was working on a computer. Her black kinky hair was pulled back in a bun, her red acrylic fingernails clicking loudly on the keyboard. She looked up over the brim of her glasses at them and said, her voice edgy, "Can I help you two?"

"Yes, hello," Steve answered, smiling kindly, "Which way are the cats?"

She looked the two of them up and down judgmentally, her lips pursing together before glancing back at her computer screen. "Down the hall to the left." she replied curtly, not bothering to look up again.

Bucky was not familiarized with human emotion that well, but even he knew there was something wrong with that woman. He glanced at Steve and saw the blond mans jaw clench and eyes narrow before tapping the counter with his finger and walking away. Bucky trotted after him, puzzled.

"What was that?" He asked quietly.

"Just a rude person." Steve replied, although Bucky sensed Steve wasn't telling him the whole truth.

* * *

They walked around the cages for about twenty minutes before something caught Steve's eye. He knelt down and eyed the cat in the cage. She was curled up sleeping in the corner, but roused when she sensed Steve, and blinked big green eyes at him. She was a small brown tabby with white paws.

"Look, Buck, this one is cute." He said as the cat slowly rose to its paws, stretching and purring loudly. He placed his hands on the bars and the cat pressed its face against his fingers, arching her back and purring even louder.

Steve grinned and read the paper that was stapled above her cage.

_Age: 2 Years  
_

_Gender: Female_

_Adoption Fee: $75_

_A very sweet cat. She loves to snuggle and loves people. Good with kids. _

"Hey, Buck, what do you think about this one?" He asked, not looking away from the cat. When no reply came he straightened up and turned.

"Bucky?" He was greeted by empty air and silence. _"Bucky?" _Panic flowed through him. Had Bucky somehow been taken without him noticing? Had Bucky ran away? He ran out of the room and down the hallway. Steve burst back into the main room of the pound, breathless. He slid into the counter, knocking a stapler and a cup of pens over as he did so. The woman looked up suddenly from her screen and pulled her glasses off, rage in her eyes.

"Excuse me, sorry!" Steve panted.

"Young man, there is a no running policy in this facility!" She snapped angrily as she scooted her chair back and gathered up the pens. She set them back on the desk and eyed him. He saw the stapler some way behind her and, ever the gentleman, walked around the edge of the counter.

"I'm sorry. Let me get your stapler."

"Sir, get back!" the woman said loudly.

"I'm just trying to get your stapler for you!"

"I said get back!" she was practically screaming now.

Steve sighed in frustration "I'm sorry. Listen, have you-"

"No, you listen. I'm calling security." She spat, reaching over and grabbing the phone on her desk.

"Ma'am this is an emergency!" He said slamming his hand down on her desk. She squeaked and spoke into the phone faster. Steve rolled his eyes and she hung up the phone, now looking genuinely scared.

Seconds later she could hear the pounding of footsteps down the hall, and turned to see a young man in a security outfit behind him. The man was well build with brown hair and an intimidating look about him. Steve was about to speak when the aggressive look on the guards face dissolved and was replaced with awe.

"Oh my God!" The guard said, a smile breaking over his face. "Is it really you, man?"

"Steven Rogers." Steve said, sticking out his hand. The man took it without hesitation.

"Chris." The man said shaking it enthusiastically.

"Sarah, do you even know who this is?" He asked, looking back at the woman at the counter.

"I don't care if he's Jesus! He broke several rules." Sarah said in a manner that implied she knew exactly who he was.

"Like what?"

"He stepped behind the counter and was running." she said, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.

"I think we can let it slide for this national hero." Chris said, looking at Steve admiringly.

"But-" Sarah protested, but Chris made it clear he didn't want to hear anymore, turning his back to her to face Steve again.

"What brings you here, sir?" He asked.

"I have a friend that recently went through a traumatic experience." Steve started.

"Oh, the Winter Solider, right?" Chris said, crossing his arms.

"Yes. Anyway, I did some research and read that animals can help people recover." He finished. Chris nodded in agreement. "But," Steve said, shrugging his shoulders, "I appear to have lost my friend."

Chris chuckled. He then turned to Sarah, who looked like she was about to explode with anger. "Have you the man Mr. Rogers came in with?"

"Yeah." she growled.

Chris narrowed his eyes at her, "Where did he go?" he asked, tone thin.

The receptionist tossed her head toward the opposite hallway. Chris eyed her a moment more then turned back to Steve, "Seem your friend went to look at the dogs."

Steve nodded and began to walk toward the hallway, Chris keeping pace with him.

"Sorry about Sarah's shitty attitude." He apologized.

"I wasn't going to say a word." Steve remarked. When they reached the doors, Chris stopped and faced Steve.

"I'll let you, uh, go in and find him." He said, the fear flashing in his eyes betraying his confident demeanor. There wasn't a person in the world now that hadn't seen what the Winter Solider was capable of, Steve realized.

"That sounds good." Steve replied.

Chris was already walking back the way they came. he called over his shoulder, "Because of the trouble if you two decide on an animal today I'll cut the adoption fee in half!"

"Thanks!" Steve called back, then turned and pushed the doors open.

* * *

He found Bucky near the back of the enclosure. He was siting with his back to Steve, and seemed focused on something in his lap. He called out gently, so as to not scare his unstable friend.

"Hey, Bucky, whatcha doing?" He approached slowly and soon he was standing in front of him. The Solider was clutching something to his chest, and he looked up at Steve when he heard his friend. The damaged look on his face startled Steve, but before he could ask him he was okay, Bucky spoke.

"No one wanted her because she wasn't perfect..." He then moved his arms slowly away from his chest and revealed to Steve a small yellow puppy sleeping peacefully in the crook of his elbow. At the movement the puppy stirred, looking up and Bucky with big trusting eyes and yawning. The baby didn't seem to notice Steve. The pup let out a small squeak of excitement when she saw the blonde man, and struggled out of Bucky's lap, her tail wagging wildly.

It took Steve a moment to see what Bucky said about her 'not being perfect'.

Stitches zig-zagged on the stump of where her right hind leg should have been. The area was completely shaved, pink and puckered, and the flesh looked sensitive. Her lack of a limb didn't seem to hinder her any though, because she bounded over to Steve as fast as her puppy legs would carry her and jumped on his leg excitedly.

She quickly lost interest, however, when Steve didn't make a move to say hello to her and scrambled back over to Bucky. A faint smile played on the dark haired mans face as the puppy rolled around in his lap, snapping playfully at his fingers, not seeming to have a care in the world.

"Jeez what happened to her?" Steve breathed, eyeing her wound.

"She was involved in a car accident." A feminine voice answered, causing Steve to jump. A girl who couldn't have been older than seventeen was standing someways back, her blonde hair done in two braids.

"Sorry to startle you." she said. When she saw the confusion in Steve's eyes she said, "An employee must be present if an animal is removed from its cage." Steve nodded.

"How was she in a car accident?" Steve asked. He highly doubted this pup had been run over.

"Well, she is a pure bred Labrador. The breeder that previously owned her was taking 10 puppies to be sold, you know, for big bucks. Anyway, she crammed her and her brothers and sisters into a carrier and didn't bother to buckle the carrier in. The owner hit someone head on, and the carrier went flying. Two of the puppies were killed and this little girls hind-leg was broken so badly the vet was forced to amputate it. After that, the owner couldn't sell her for thousands as she was going to for obvious reasons and she didn't want a 'ruined' dog. That's the way she put it. So, she brought her here. Poor little angel." The girl said looking at the puppy sympathetically.

"I told you." Bucky replied, but he didn't sound as disgruntled as before. The puppy was gnawing on his left shoe and he was watching with an amused smirk.

"Bucky, its a sad story, but I told you, we cant get a dog." Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bucky looked up, and said nothing. He locked his eyes with Steve's and remained silent. The puppy let out a loud whimper in an attempt to get his attention again, and when he didn't respond, she threw herself into his lap. The two men continued to stare at each other for a long moment.

The puppy refused to leave Steve alone on the ride back to Avengers Tower.

**Hope you enjoyed! Reviews make me update faster! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Short update! **

**I'm really sorry I haven't done much with this story lately guys but with school starting back up I don't have much time. I'll try and update when I can! **

**Reviews are always loved. **

"What are you going to call her?" Steve asked, glancing away from the bag of Puppy Chow he was reading. Bucky was sitting on the couch (a rare occurrence) and lightly petting the pup with his right hand. She rolled onto her back and let out small grunts and growls, attempting to nip his fingers each time he stroked her. Bucky didn't reply, but by now Steve was used to the other mans silence. Steve usually had one sided conversations that involved him speaking and Bucky (sometimes) listening quietly.

"You have to give her a name so that we can start training her." Steve continued as he poured a scoop of food into the yellow dog bowl they had picked up on the ride home. He set the bowl on the ground and when the puppy heard the ceramic tap the tile floor, she scrambled off of his lap to investigate. Steve filled an identical bowl with water and set it down next to the bowl of kibble, which she was now nibbling on.

"How about you think about it?" Steve asked, leaning against the counter and peering into the dark living room at Bucky. The dark haired man nodded, then turned his attention to the puppy again. Steve gazed at his friend a moment longer before sighing softly and straightening up. He wasn't sure whether this had been a good idea or not.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

The Solider didn't reply, but continued to watch the pup quietly.

* * *

Bucky could not seem to take his eyes off of the animal. About an hour had passed since Steve had gone to bed, and Bucky had since moved to his room, taking the dog with him. He was sitting on the bed with his legs criss-crossed and the puppy sleeping in his lap. He watched her now, as she twitched in her sleep, and felt something akin to peace flow over him.

She had been unable to jump on the bed, and so she had sat on the floor, watching him. When he looked away from her, she had yipped sharply, causing him to jump. When he had returned his attention upon her, she seemed to have a demanding heir around her, and Bucky knew instantly she wanted up with him. He had scooped her up gently with his right arm, careful not to touch her stitches in-case they were still tinder. She had curled up in his lap immediately and fallen asleep.

Now he sat completely still for fear of awakening her. Her small grunts and twitches made him smile. He also had the strangest unfamiliar feelings that accompanied this animal. Every time he looked at her his chest seemed to fill with warmth. The impulse to lay his hands upon the tiny creature was great. This was different than the usual impulse to touch someone Bucky usually got though. Other times it was to cause them pain or to kill them. This was a more gentle feeling. This was one of kindness and nurturing that was almost alien to the Soldier. Although...he swore he could remember a time... a time when there was another, another person he thinks, he had this same feeling for.

Then the man, a familiar face, entered his mind. Slightly smaller than he was now, but there all the same. Memories involving this man began to flow, and it was like watching a movie right before his eyes. It wasn't until after the episode faded he realized he had been clutching the sheets in his fists. A wave of determination crashed over him and then he knew; He had to get better. He had to. For the first time in almost seventy years, Bucky was sure he could beat the Winter Solider.

For the man in his slowly returning memories.

For the man on the other side of the wall.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky had seen dogs in the past. He had actually worked along side them in missions. However, these dog were vicious. Trained to kill and maul, they were not the kind you would necessarily want to be around. Bucky knew the sting of their teeth all to well. Once when he had failed a mission, his handler had entered the room flanked by two dogs with sharp muzzles and thick bodies. The Winter Solider had been beat by his handler and restrained as the dogs watched icily from the doorway. He then was subjected to an hour of pain at the fangs of the dogs, them being sicked on him on and off by his handler. Yes, Bucky knew those dogs. And he was careful not to fail any other missions the dogs accompanied him on.

Now, as he slept, the dogs returned from the depths of his mind to torment him in the darkness. He tried to escape them, but found himself bound. Their growls seemed to come from every direction and he looked around wildly, writhing as he desperately tried to free himself. In the pale light, one of the dogs appeared, body low and swaying. It was preparing to pounce on the solider. It sprang and sailed through the air, a terrible roar ripping from its throat. He flinched, expecting to feel the animals sharp teeth tear into his cheek.

So you can only imagine his surprise he was awoken by a tiny tongue lapping across his face. His eyes snapped open, and sitting on his chest with her head tilted was the little yellow puppy. For a moment he didn't remember where he was or who this dog was, and he tensed up, ready to fight. Then everything hit him and he instantly relaxed and took a deep soothing breath. She whimpered softly and nudged the back of his hand with her cold wet nose. Bucky patted her head with his right hand and smiled faintly at her as she scrambled off of him and onto the floor. Now Bucky untangled himself from the linen sheets and decided to start the day.

* * *

When Steve exited his bedroom he was shocked to find Bucky lying on the floor in the living room with one of the puppies toy in his hand. He was playing with the yellow puppy, right arm holding one end of the to while she had the other end between her tiny jaws. When Bucky saw him, he sat up quickly.

"Good morning." he greeted him.

"Good morning," Steve replied, eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and hope. He walked into the kitchen, careful not to step on the puppy dancing around his feet, and opened the fridge. As he peered sleepily inside he said as casually as he could, "You sure are up early. Whats the occasion?" He grabbed the orange juice, shut the door and turned, jolting as he saw Bucky standing inches away from him. Damn, he was going to have to get used to that.

"Nothing...I, uh...I," Bucky stammered, looking down at the floor. The words he wanted would simply not come to him, and he felt the urge building within him to lash out in a rage. He clinched his hands in frustration, and the movement did not go unnoticed by Cap. Steve reached out and gently placed a reassuring hand on the mans shoulder. Bucky tensed under his touch, but did not flinch away. Steve gave a soft squeeze before dropping his hand to his side again.

"Do I smell coffee?" Steve asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Yes, I tried to make coffee in the coffee pot and," he glanced up at Steve's face before dropping his gaze again, this time focusing on the dog. "And I broke...everything." He expected Steve to be upset, furious, maybe even to hit him. He was shocked though, when the blond man busted out laughing.

"You are not...upset?" he asked, dazed.

"No, Buck." Steve forced out between giggles. "You never could cook anything."

Bucky smiled an uncertain, crooked smile. When Steve looked at his friend, with that lopsided grin on his face, he smiled wider. He didn't want to get to hopeful, but it seemed Bucky was actually making an effort.

The puppy yapped loudly, not liking the attention averted from her.

"I thought of a name, so we can train her." Bucky smiled and stooped over to pick her up.

"Oh yeah?" Steve asked, pouring the orange juice into a glass. "What is it?"

"Asha." Bucky replied, trying to balance the wiggly puppy in the crook of his arm.

"That's...different..." Steve offered as he took another sip of juice.

"I heard it on a mission once," Bucky continued as he very delicately stroked the puppy with his left hand. "I cannot remember what it means..." Bucky spoke softly and his features contorted with thought. "I remember I liked it though."

Steve cleared his throat. "I like it." he announced. "Asha it is."

* * *

Steve drove back to Pets Smart later that morning with Bucky and bought a small purple collar that Bucky chose. Asha rode in the cart and seemed to enjoy it. They picked a dog tag out together (it was silver and in the shape of a dog bone) and inscribed one side with her new name and the back side with Steve's phone number. He also purchased a matching purple leash and several other toys that Asha herself picked out.

"Should we purchase a dog bed?" Steve asked as he scanned the various array of beds.

If Bucky tried to reply, Steve didn't hear it. He did hear, however, Asha's shrill bark and the sound of the her frantically scrambling around in the cart. When he looked over, he saw the puppy mid-leap as she sailed out of the cart. She landed hard, but was up in a flash, tearing after another large dog who ripped the lead from its elderly owners hand.

Steve ran after her, yelling her name, Bucky on his heels. This was the day both men discovered Asha's missing hind-leg didn't slow her down _at all. _She raced after the other dog, whose massive body rammed into stands, knocking them over with a loud clatter. Objects flew everywhere, causing a massive scene. They chased both dogs around the store with the help of employees before Bucky managed to catch Asha and Steve cornered the other dog and returned it to its owner after apologizing repeatedly. The store was a wreck, and the manager and employees were not happy.

A phone call from Tony and his promise of paying for all the damage done seemed to smooth things over, however Asha was banned from the store.

On the ride home Asha sat on Bucky's lap with her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth.

"Look at how proud she is!" Steve exclaimed, glancing between the road and Asha.

Bucky tilted his head and looked at his pup. "Well she should be." Bucky murmured quietly.

Steve glanced at him. "Why is that?"

"I do not think even I could have caused that much damage in two minutes."

Steve snorted. "Did you _see_ the kitchen this morning? How on earth did you get coffee on the _ceiling_?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and scratched behind Asha's ears.

Little did they know this was only the beginning of what they had gotten themselves into.


End file.
